“Just me. When I heard noises, I got worried, so I came to investigate. I’m still worried. You seem upset.”
“Well, I’m not upset.”
“Well, you sure look upset to me.”
“What do you know? You’re a girl.”
I put my hands on my hips. “What does that have to do with it?”
“You don’t know what it’s like to be a little brother.”
He had a point. “Maybe not. But I do know what it’s like to feel bad about things. Want to tell me why you’re crying?”
“I’m not crying!” Nelson folded his arms across his chest and stomped around in a small circle.
“Okay. Sorry. But you should know that it’s all right if you are.”
“I’m not crying!” Nelson shouted again. Even as he glared at me, the faint light from the moon showed shiny wet lines on his cheeks. “Boys aren’t supposed to cry!”
“Well, that’s just silly. Where’d you get that idea?”
“Colby Bixby says that boys who cry are wussies.”
“Colby Bixby? Is he a doctor or a philosopher?”
“No. He’s a kid in my class,” Nelson said, making a face. “He’s just a bully guy.”
“Seems like a lousy role model. I wouldn’t trust his advice.”
“Yeah,” Nelson conceded. Then he frowned at me. “But you aren’t a doctor or anything, either.”
I nodded. “Fair enough. What do your brothers and your dad say about crying?”
“I never asked them,” he said. “Besides, I don’t care what they think. They took my bow and arrow away.”
“Why?”
“Jay and Robbie told Dad that I wasn’t being careful.”
“Were you?”
He shrugged and looked down at the ground. “I was just trying to shoot it and run at the same time. I didn’t mean to crack the window. It was an accident.”
“I have accidents all the time. And I get punished sometimes, too,” I said. “I think it helps to let the tears come out. It helps me.”
Nelson didn’t saying anything. He just kept dragging his feet over the ground. But I could tell he was listening, so I kept on talking.
“Lots of people want to be alone when they cry, and that works, too. One of my sisters is that way. Sometimes she even crawls under her bed so no one will see her.”
Nelson stopped in his tracks and looked at me. “Really?”
“Yep. But at least she lets it out. So maybe you could just … try it? See if you need to cry and then let it happen.”
“Like an experiment?”
“Like an experiment.”
He seemed to consider this. “And you’ll leave me alone and you won’t tell anyone? Not even your sisters?”
“Cross my heart,” I said, drawing the intersecting lines on my chest with my finger.
Nelson still looked worried.
“Tell you what,” I said. “If I do tell anyone, I’ll … I’ll eat a worm.”
“For real?”
I nodded solemnly. “I will. We still have some bait leftover. If I tell, I’ll swallow a whole night crawler.”
“Whoa.” His eyes grew big and he seemed to calm down a little. “All right. Thanks.”
I straightened and started brushing the leaves and dirt off my shorts.
Just as I turned to walk away, I heard him say, “It gets lonely out here,” he said. “I miss my mom and my friends. Sometimes my brothers treat me like a little kid.”
“Sometimes I get treated that way, too,” I said. “It stinks.”
“Yeah. And I was mad that I didn’t catch that fish. We could have won. I mean … we still won, but only because one of your fish ate the other one.”
“We almost didn’t catch that big fish — because of me. I actually fell asleep out there.”
For the first time, Nelson smiled. “It is kind of boring. I guess I could see why.”
He still seemed a little glum, but a lot calmer about it. It made me feel good to talk to him this way — like a big sister, sort of. Delaney was born only seven minutes after me, so she didn’t really count as a younger sibling.
“Well, anyway, if you could keep it down, I’d sure appreciate it,” I said. “I really need to sleep.”
“I will,” he said.
I turned and started heading back to camp. “Bye, Nelson. I hope you feel better.”
“Bye … whichever girl you are.”
The next morning, we slept late. We know this because Aunt Jane left us a note on the table inside the camper. It read:
“I feel awful,” Darby said. “We haven’t done enough to cheer up Aunt Jane.”
“Yeah. We were so focused on the Great Camping Challenge, we haven’t spent that much time with her the past couple of days,” I said.
“But the competition is important,” Dawn said. “We can’t stop now. We still have to do something to show those boys we’re the best. For the sake of our family honor. For decent people everywhere!”
“Aunt Jane is decent. She’s got family honor,” I said.
“And she’s probably lonely because we’ve been doing our own thing.” Darby plopped down on the bunk. She looked so guilty, it made my stomach hurt. Or maybe that was also because I needed breakfast.
“Well, what are we supposed to do?” Dawn said. “The horses are gone. The canoes leak.”
“We’re not allowed to ride the donkey,” I added.
“We don’t have to do special campground stuff,” Darby said. “We could just swim or play cards.”
“That’s all fine and dandy, but I still think Aunt Jane is just flat bored,” Dawn said. “She’s used to Boston, where big things happen. Fireworks and festivals where people pile into the streets and …” She broke off and stared at the wall. Her eyes went big and round and her mouth also made an O shape.
At first I thought maybe she saw a tarantula or a scorpion, but when I followed her gaze, I didn’t see anything.
“Dawn? You okay?” I asked.
“That’s it,” she mumbled. “I’m brilliant.”
“Um … How are you brilliant this time?” Darby asked. The slow, gentle way she said her words made me wonder if she was afraid to ask.
Dawn started pacing about the way she does when she’s making plans — only she had to go in a tiny circle since the trailer was so narrow. “I know how to cheer up Aunt Jane in a way that isn’t humdrum or boring. A way that might even liven up this lackluster campground.” She paused and stood in her Wonder Woman pose — hands on her hips, legs apart, and chin raised high. “The three of us are going to put on a parade!”
* * *
While the parade was kind of silly, it really wasn’t a bad idea. Maybe if we hadn’t been such show-offs, the day wouldn’t have taken such a sorry turn. Our mistake was letting Dawn be in the lead.
We forgot she was still trying to prove something to those boys.
We finished planning the parade as we ate breakfast. When were done, we dressed in clothes that were red, white, or blue, applied sunscreen, and pulled up our flag pole. Then off we went, single file, singing “When the Saints Go Marching In” and stepping to the rhythm.
Dawn was in front carrying our flag pole. Darby marched in the middle holding a cardboard sign in front of her that read HAPPY LAKE LEWIS DAY! I took up the rear and managed to coax Mo to follow along behind us — mainly by putting lots of carrots and apple pieces in my pockets.
The day was cloudy and windy, and the flag flapped wildly in the breeze. In a unanimous vote, we’d decided to take the road instead of the narrow trails, so that we wouldn’t have to poke through the brambles and risk ripping our flag. We marched down the gravel drive of our site and onto the asphalt lane that wove through the campground. Only instead of turning left, toward Camp HQ, Dawn turned to the right.
“Where are you going?” Darby shouted.
“Quick detour,” Dawn said. “Let’s stop for just a second.”
She reached back and flipped o
ver the sign Darby was holding. Somehow that morning, without our noticing, she’d written CAMPSITE 19 RULES! BEST TEAM IN LAKE LEWIS! in big letters on the other side.
“Okay, now we’re ready,” she said, taking her place in the front again. We restarted the song and Dawn led us down the drive for Campsite 18.
The boys were sitting at their picnic table. Nelson had been stretched out on his stomach across one bench, but he sat up and frowned at us as we approached. Robbie waved and I waved back. Jay, meanwhile, just watched us the entire time. His face was blank, so I couldn’t tell how he felt.
There was TV noise coming from inside the RV, but no one peeked out — at least not that I could tell.
After we made a circle of their camp, we went out the way we came. “Great going, troops!” Dawn called out, reaching back to flip back Darby’s sign. “That’ll show them what kind of team we are.” She was all smiles.
Darby and I exchanged a shrug.
Next, we headed down the road, toward HQ, marching and singing and luring Mo with a carrot. Mr. Bartholomew was headed the same way with his fishing pole. As we caught up to him, he saluted at us … and then fell into step beside me! It made me laugh to see his bony knees bouncing high as he marched. Occasionally, coins would fall out of the pockets of his shorts.
Soon we came upon some more campers, including John Michael, the boy who had paid us to ride Mo. He took one look at us and ran into his family’s tent. I worried he was upset with us, but then he came back out wearing a red rain poncho and carrying a recorder — just like the ones we play in music at school. He also started marching with us and blowing on the recorder at the same time. The tune didn’t exactly match our song, or any song that I knew, but it still added to the celebration.
It was amazing. As we passed more campers, a few others joined in. Some older men like Mr. Bartholomew, a few more younger kids like John Michael, and a couple of older ladies — one of whom had a loud singing voice, almost like an opera singer. Some clapped as they sang, someone whistled, and a couple of people shook wads of keys like maracas. Lots more folks waved and smiled as we went past.
As we entered the big grassy area by HQ, I spotted Aunt Jane and Mrs. Kimbro sitting on the patio. They pointed at us and started laughing and clapping. I watched as they disappeared into the building, and came back out carrying a couple of things. Mrs. Kimbro jogged up next to Dawn and kept lifting a spatula like a baton to the music. Aunt Jane fell into step beside Darby and started banging together two pot lids like cymbals. It was so much fun I was bouncing with glee and kept getting out of step to the beat.
Unfortunately, the lid banging scared off Mo, and soon our voices were wearing out. So after one more loop around HQ, Dawn held us in place until the chorus ended. Then we stopped.
The people around us clapped and cheered for a while before going their separate ways. Mr. Bartholomew gave us one more salute and continued his trek to the old causeway, and John Michael turned and smiled at me. “I want to work here, too, someday,” he said, and ran off toward a group of kids, blowing on his recorder.
Mrs. Kimbro and Aunt Jane were heading back to the table on the patio. We ran after them. As we caught up to them, I noticed Aunt Jane was smiling big and laughing. It was so great to see.
“Did you like that?” Darby asked her.
“I sure did,” she said. “What’s the special occasion?”
“We’re celebrating our freedom and our patriotism and … um …” Dawn paused.
“And our right to have a parade!” I added.
“Lake Lewis Day,” Mrs. Kimbro said, reading Darby’s sign. “I like that. We should make that official.”
Dawn grinned so big at that I thought her face would never recover.
“We want to keep celebrating with a swim and a picnic at the beach,” I said. “Would you guys like to join us?”
“Another great idea,” Aunt Jane said.
“I’m honored, but I’m afraid I have to stick around here and work,” Mrs. Kimbro said.
“If you don’t mind, I’ll stay a few minutes longer to help Tammy with some work we started,” Aunt Jane said. A map and some old photographs lay on the table in front of them. I figured they were probably reliving fond memories again. “How about I meet you down there? I’ll bring sandwiches and some candy bars for our Daily Chocolate.”
We all cheered at that. Then we saluted them good-bye and the three of us headed for the exit.
“Didn’t Aunt Jane look happy?” Darby said as we stepped outside.
“She sure did!” I said, bouncing as I walked. “They both did!”
“Told you it was a great idea,” Dawn said.
As we skipped down the grassy slope toward the swimming beach trail, I spotted Mo hunkered under a tree and ran over to him.
“Aww … Now he looks bored,” I said. “He’s sad the parade is over.”
“I think he looks worn-out,” Dawn said.
I was just reaching into my pocket for a carrot stick for Mo, when Darby elbowed me in the side. “Look,” she said, nodding toward something behind me. I spun around and saw Jay, Robbie, and Nelson heading toward us in a line.
“No way!” Dawn said.
“They’re having a parade!” I pointed out — although I didn’t need to.
Sure enough, the three of them were marching in time. Their flag was hanging behind them, off the back end of a long stick. Jay was the head of the line, of course, and the main thing I noticed as they came closer was the flinty-eyed look of determination on his face. His jaw was set and he refused to meet our gazes, staring just beyond us instead.
“Lousy copycats!” Dawn exclaimed as they passed within a few feet of us.
As they went past, they quickened their step, and then went faster and faster until they were running toward the trees.
“Weird,” Darby said.
“Yeah. Our parade was way more festive,” I said.
“Y’all should run, you plagiarizers!” Dawn shouted after them, shaking our own flag stick. “That’s not even proper marching technique!” The look of victory she’d been wearing before was gone. Now she was scowling and muttering things like “low-life stunt” and “cheap imitation.”
We decided to continue our trek to the beach and wait for Aunt Jane. I tried to get Mo to come with us, but he seemed determined to stay where he was. Maybe he was hoping there’d be more parades.
As soon as the lake came into view, we ran into Nelson. He was standing right where the walking path opened up onto the pebbly beach, looking as if he’d been waiting for us.
“You can’t be here,” Nelson said, his mouth in a lopsided smirk. “We’ve already claimed this space.”
“Claimed it?” Dawn repeated.
He nodded and pointed toward the shoreline where their flag had been planted in the middle of the beach. Jay stood beside it all puffed up and proud-looking, while Robbie sat beside him looking bored.
“You can’t do that!” I said as I pushed past Nelson. Dawn and Darby followed.
Nelson ran over to stand beside Jay. “Y’all are just mad that we got here first,” he said, raising his chin.
“We’re mad because it’s wrong,” Dawn said.
“It’s not wrong,” Jay said. “It’s manifest destiny. The universe wants us here.”
“And just how do you know that?” Dawn asked.
Jay smiled. “Because we thought of it, and you didn’t.”
Dawn jammed down our flag pole, shoving the stick into the pebbly dirt with a chunk sound. Her arms went rigid beside her and her eyes narrowed into thin slits. I wouldn’t have been surprised to see tiny explosions under her feet, lifting her off the ground and sending her soaring like a missile — right for Jay’s head.
I instinctively took a few steps to the side.
There came a loud rumbling, and I shielded my eyes, waiting for the blast. Only … it never came. The next thing I knew, I felt a drop of wet on my forehead. Then more and more.
That’s when I realized that the booming sounds hadn’t come from Dawn, but the sky. In an instant, it was raining hard. More thunder sounded, and the rain hitting the lake made a noisy shhhh sound.
Dawn didn’t move. She stood so straight and unyielding, we probably could have hung a flag off her, too. She just kept glowering at the boys — who were now abandoning the beach and running toward us.
Nelson passed us first, heading back up the trail in the direction of the campsites. Robbie followed, grinning apologetically as he went by. Then came Jay, carrying their flag.
“You can use the beach now,” he said to Dawn. “Just remember that it’s ours.”
Dawn just kept standing there, staring menacingly at the lake, pretending to ignore him.
After they passed, I grabbed our flag pole and gave it a big yank. “Come on,” I said, pulling it out of the dirt. “We should get back, too.” But Dawn didn’t budge.
“Forget about those guys,” Darby said, picking up one of Dawn’s stiff arms and pulling it. “The competition’s over.”
Dawn nodded. “You’re right. This isn’t a competition anymore,” she muttered.
I felt a little rush of relief.
She turned her head to meet our worried gazes, and the look in her eyes made me gulp. “This is war.”
This place hates me,” I mumbled.
“Again, Dawn?” Delaney asked. “I thought you decided you wanted to stay.”
“I do want to stay,” I said, sounding whinier that I’d meant to. “I was just remarking.”
My squishy creek-water shoes had finally dried out and now they were wet again. But then again, so were everyone else’s. Maybe the campground hated all of us. Maybe it was anti-Brewster.
Aunt Jane had come back from HQ to check on us. She invited us into the trailer, but I insisted that we were fine eating lunch in our tent. I felt like we needed to regroup and plan our countermove in private.
Beside me, Darby lay stretched out like a starfish, trying to take a nap — although I wasn’t sure how anyone could rest. The rain sounded like sixty-five people with drumsticks pounding the roof of our tent. Meanwhile, Delaney kept wriggling around, accidentally jostling us.
Revenge of the Happy Campers Page 12
